


Tired

by GrapieBee



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Mentions of self-harm, passive suicidal thoughts, suicidal identation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 17:38:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11086596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrapieBee/pseuds/GrapieBee
Summary: He was so tired. Hyrule wouldn’t care if he was tired. He still had his own mess to clean up, before he could die.





	Tired

He couldn’t breathe. Or at least, that’s what it felt like. He awoke in his bed at the Zora Inn, brow slick with sweat and the trail end of nightmare ringing in his ears. His breathing, while difficult, wasn’t loud and ragged. Yet.

He knew from experience for nights like this, he would get himself worked up and then the tears would come with choking gasps and ghosts of people he didn’t remember.

Knowing what was in store for himself and not wanting to be a further burden then necessary, he was quick to pull the Sheikah Slate from where it still hung on his hip and with practiced hands, chose a nearby shrine to weather this storm inside himself.

As he rematerializes on the Dagah Keek Shrine’s pedestal, he knew he had made it just in time. He let himself crumble under his own weight as a sob shook his shoulders. Covering his eyes with his palms, he pushed on his face, hard enough for it to hurt, as his mind flung the same reel of words at him it had since he’d come to learn who he was.

_How could you forget them?_

_How could you fail all of them?_

_Hands must be covered in blood, look at how many people died because of you._

_Why would you be called a Hero?_

He curled further into himself as the words washed over him, his own inner darkness clawing at him, cutting at wounds that never seemed to heal. His tears pour from his eyes, hot an heavy and never enough. He dug his fingernails into his forehead, hard enough that he knew marks would remain for several days.

He tried to keep these terrible thoughts locked down, deep in himself, where not even himself could easily reach them. He didn’t have time for this. He didn’t deserve to have such thoughts. He had a job to do. Still had to save the world, still had to find a way to make up for his short comings.

But it was hard. On nights like this, when that darkness chilled him to the core and reminded him how easy it would be to make all this pain stop, it was so hard.

On bad days, worse than how he felt tonight, he made sure to only keep bludgeoning weapons on hand. There were scars on his body that he knew were not from battling, were not there on accident. It was harder to hurt yourself with a wooden club then it was with a knife.

The fact remained that he could not stop. As much as he wanted to, he could not. It was this fact that kept him going, kept pushing him forward. It was that thought that had him rushing into battles ill-prepared, that kept him running on empty for days.

So, when there were moments when he could not do anything except be overwhelmed by his emotions, he did what came naturally.

Like a wounded animal, he found a place to lick his wounds, dry his tears, and get ready for the next day.

Eventually, his crying subsided and his shoulders stopped shaking. His eyes were sore and his heart was heavy. But he was still alive. He was unwell, Goddesses didn’t he know these thoughts weren’t safe to have, but that was ok.

Hyrule didn’t need him to be well, it need him to be alive, it needed him to fight Ganon, when the time came.

He lay on the hard, cold rock of the shrine for a long time, again letting that awful voice roll over him, getting quieter and quieter as Link calmed down.

_-be better if you were dead-wouldn’t be a burden-didn’t save anyone-failed everyone-killed everyone-_

He knew, in his heart of hearts, that this voice was right. If he had done all this right the first time, the world would have been better off.

But, here he was, living in a world where every corner was touched by his failures. He could stop when he had fixed this and not a moment sooner.

He was so tired. Hyrule wouldn’t care if he was tired.

He still had his own mess to clean up, before he could die.


End file.
